“What about Violet?” I asked.
An upset expression flickers across her eyes and she shakes her head.
“No,” she says. “Not that precious little girl. He wouldn't play with someone so young. I don't know what happened to her. It makes me so afraid.”
Her hands lower back down to dip the chains and bones back under the water as I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I look around and see Dean coming down the path with a determined stride.
“No,” I call out to him. “Don't come down.”
“No, Emma,” he says. “You're not dealing with this alone.”
“Dean,” I protest, “you need to go. It isn't safe here for you.”
“Go back to the cabin, Emma,” he says.
“No,” I say.
He's headed down to the beach now and Laura's eyes light up when she sees him.
“You're here,” she smiles, almost beatific.
“Dean, you need to go.”
“Get out of here,” he repeats. “Get away from her.”
“You're in far more danger than I am," I say.
Laura looks confused and maybe even a little hurt.
"You think I could hurt my son?" she asks. "He's only just come home."
Dean nods and steps closer to the edge of the water.
"Come on out," he says. "Let me help you."
"They're all here," she tells him. "The people who love you. We want to celebrate with you."
"I saw them," he says, nodding encouragingly. "Thank you."
"You should be getting ready," Laura admonishes him, a new note of concern in her voice. "Your wedding will be starting. Soon you'll be with your beautiful bride and we'll be a family."
"Where is Elsie?" he asks carefully. "I'd like to tell her how excited I am."
Laura shakes her head. "No, no. Now, you know you can't see the bride before the ceremony. It's bad luck."
"Okay," he says, taking a few steps into the water and holding both his hands out toward her. "Then just come up here with me."
My hand goes to my gun as she lets him take her hands. The two of them start slowly walking out of the lake. I take a step back and get my walkie out to call Sam.
"You're going to need to call for backup," I say calmly and quietly.
"Everything okay?"
Before I can answer, a high-pitched sound slices through the air and Dean throws his back into a dramatic arch. The sight of the arrow sticking out of Dean's back is so surreal I almost can't process it. He tips forward and Laura screams as he collapses into her arms. She stumbles under the weight of his body, struggling to stay on her feet.
Her frantic eyes lift to mine and search my face as if she's desperately asking for help but can't form the words. The walkie talkie drops from my hand, and I run forward as Laura's knees start to buckle, and she drops toward the water.
I grab onto him and try to hold him up. His head drops back, his eyes rolling as he fights to stay conscious. Blood pours from the wound through the back of his shoulder, soaking into his shirt.
"Dean!" I shout into his face.
Laura stumbles, continuing to sink down into the water as she tries to hold him. She looks up and gasps, her expression filled with fear.
"No," she cries out, grabbing the front of Dean's shirt to try to pull him closer as she tumbles down into the dark water.
My hand reaching for my gun, I spin around. Pain explodes in the side of my head, and the next thing I'm aware of is cold water and the taste of blood in my mouth.
The taste is still there when consciousness creeps its way back in. I groan as I open my eyes and try to figure out where I am. My head throbs, and there’s a dank smell around me that hits the back of my throat as I drag in a breath.
Everything around me is dark. My backpack is gone, but I can feel the small flashlight shoved in my pocket. Hoping it still works, I fish it out and press the button. A beam of light hits a damp stone wall in front of me, and I shine it around to try to get an idea of where I am.
What I find are piles of bones. Piles and piles. Sagging against the wall in front of me is a ripped, dirt-caked sleeping bag. Bones of a hand spill from the open mouth. Beside it, a skeleton curled in the fetal position still wears a blue and white sundress and a single shoe.
As I get to my feet, I hear a shuddering breath a few feet away. Turning my flashlight beam, I catch a bloodied face in the light.
“Oh my God, Elsie,” I say.
Dropping down beside her, I put my flashlight in my mouth to hold it in place as I take her face in my hands.
“Elsie,” I say. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
My voice is muffled, but I hope she can understand the words.
She makes a groaning sound, trying to say something, but not having the energy to get it out.
“Open your eyes,” I tell her. “I'm right here. My name is Emma, I’m with the FBI. You're going to be okay.”
I take the flashlight out of my mouth and run the light over her to try to find the injury that's causing the blood to streak across her skin. It looks as though she struggled with whoever dragged her from the beach and has been fighting to stay alive since the moment they tossed her here. She also looks as if she’s close to losing the fight.
Her hands and wrists are tied, and I quickly release them. I wasn't tied when I woke up. Either whoever brought me here didn't have the time to tie me, or didn't think I would survive long enough to need the precaution. I'll take that arrogance.
“I'm going to get you out of here,” I say. “I'm going to send help.”
She has just enough in her to nod.
Careful
